


Whumptober 2020

by Whumblr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whumblr/pseuds/Whumblr
Summary: A collection of short whump drabbles for Whumptober 2020. Various tropes, mostly nameless characters. No plot, just whump.
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Let's hang out sometime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little drabble for my series Home is where the hurt is.

Jay wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing here. Everything happened so fast and before he knew it, he was sitting on a barstool in an unknown pub with his worst enemy brightly chattering next to him.

He’d bumped into Zayne on his way home and was invited, _coerced_ , to hang out at the pub a few streets over.

“Come on, it’s Happy Hour. Let’s have a drink. My treat!”

Drinks with Zayne felt more like agony hour.

“I don’t drink,” came the easy lie. Jay would much rather sip his own spirits at home. _Alone_.

“Then take a fizzy drink.”

And so Jay was pretty much dragged and deposited onto a barstool where he now sat with a permanent scowl.

“Wasn’t that a happy coincidence.” Zayne almost beamed and nudged a petulant Jay sitting next to him.

“Almost as if you weren’t having a stake out at my house every day,” Jay acknowledged. Coincidences didn’t exist in his world anymore.

He scooted back on his seat. Maybe he could start an argument and make a scene or something, but one look from Zayne stopped him and the mood shifted immediately.

“Don’t,” Zayne warned. He closed his hand around Jay’s wrist, moving fast but almost tenderly.

Jay’s eyes narrowed in disgust. Zayne guided his hand towards his own chest, slipping Jay’s open palm under the open leather jacket near his ribcage. Jay’s narrowed eyes widened for just a split second as his hand touched over something hard. Zayne may be fitter than he was, but he didn’t have pecs of steel. He explored the outline of the metal item with his fingers; a _gun_.

The warning was clear, delivered by a lover’s touch to deceive the people around them at whom the bullets would be aimed if he were to raise a fuzz.

He looked around the room to see if anyone was looking at them suspiciously, but everyone was too caught up in their own conversations. Zayne let go of his wrist and Jay pulled back as if the metal burned his hand.

“Fine.”

He scanned the menu looking for the most expensive cocktail, not even checking what was in it, and gave his order to the bartender.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” Zayne took him in with an amused smile.

“If I have to put up with you for an evening I do,” Jay said. Being petty was his best defence now.

Both fell silent to admire the lush cocktail that was now placed in front of Jay. It exploded with colour and while it was strong enough to knock you off your feet just looking at it, Jay felt he needed something a little stronger to pass the evening (and hit Zayne’s wallet) so he ordered a double whiskey to go with it.

Zayne stole the little blue umbrella from the drink, twirling it around between his fingers. He took a sip of his scotch but reached out to Jay’s cocktail as well. “Lemme have a taste.”

“Get your own,” Jay growled and twirled the straw out of reach to take a sip. His face lit up with the sweet taste. He preferred sweet drinks, to be honest. This was kinda worth the price, though not worth sitting here with Zayne. He twisted his face back in a scowl to show his displeasure, but the short burst of happiness he radiated didn’t escape Zayne.

“That good, huh?” He ordered one for himself. Again he took the little umbrella but this time stuck it in Jay’s hair where it stuck out behind his ear. “Lovely.”

Jay took it out and deliberated stabbing it through Zayne’s hand. It would probably break, though, unfortunately. “Why are we here?”

“Just hanging out. Unless you want to go back to your place?” Zayne gave a suggestive wink.

Relenting, Jay sipped at his straw. Spending an awkward evening in close proximity to Zayne may be a torture of its own, but he wasn’t going to push it. Getting drunk was better than getting beat.


	2. In the hands of the enemy

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

He stood in front of her and bowed low, one hand on his chest, the other held out to her in invitation.

She had to admit, he was looking very smart indeed. A well-tailored black suit, bow tie, crisp white shirt; the works.

He noticed her hesitation and his eyes, respectfully downcast to the floor, snapped up. The harsh twinkle in his eyes brought a malice with it and she knew this wasn’t just a casual request. He knew exactly why she was here. Not to dance, really, that was for sure. Especially not with him. But better to stay friendly. One short dance wouldn’t hurt. She accepted.

His hand guided her up from her seat. Ever the gentleman. His other settled on her bare shoulder as he guided her to the middle of the dancefloor. A chill went through her, so forceful she was sure he could feel it. Did he? Could he feel the hairs on her skin raise on end as he touched her? As his fingers possessively yet tenderly rubbed over the curve of her neck? His smile betrayed nothing. He already knew what effect he had on her, though.

No one at the party knew the story behind the man. They loved him for his philanthropy and generosity. They loved how he treated his people. A façade carefully created to con them all. His greed and manipulation hidden with a cloak of gentlemanly courtesies.

But she intended to pull that cloak away.

He turned towards her and, with another curt bow, took her waist.

When he pulled her closer against him a pleasant smell infiltrated her nostrils. Too bad the person wearing the nice cologne wasn’t a pleasant man. She hoped he’d choke on the sharp sting of her own perfume. Instead of resting her hand on his shoulder, she slid it down against it, hoping to maintain a certain distance.

“With a scowl like that people might be under the impression you’re not enjoying this party,” he gently said and led her across the room in a slow waltz.

“Why, they would be correct in thinking so.”

They exchanged a couple of fake smiles.

“I must admit, I was surprised you even accepted the invitation. But knowing you, you probably have… ulterior motives for being here.”

“Like you have ulterior motives for throwing this lavish party, you mean?”

She heard the low hum of a chuckle rumble in his chest. “Touché.”

The invitation had caught her by surprise as well. While she would have given anything to be able to snoop around the mansion, and this certainly gave her the opportunity to do so, the invite also meant that he was probably careful enough not to leave any interesting titbits lying around. Not to worry. Information could come from careless guests as well. So here she was.

The song ended and relief filled her. She let go of his hand but he wouldn’t let her. As her fingers uncurled, his tightened around her palm more forcefully. His other hand dipped to the small of her back and he bent over to her.

She startled. He wasn’t going to kiss her, right? _Fuck no!_ She twisted away and as she leaned farther away from him, he took advantage. The hand at her back pressed her forward and combined with him leaning in on her he let her fall back into a dip.

Fully certain he was about to drop her, her hand snapped up to curl around his neck in an attempt to steady herself. Her fingers gripped on to the soft, silky material of his collar, her other hand was still firmly in his grasp.

Her face burned when he caught her. A smug grin flourished as he held her up. The movement demanded a certain amount of trust that, at least from her part, didn’t exist between the pair.

Now in the lull between songs, people disentangled from their own partners and all eyes were on them. She heard the cheers and applause as she was dipped farther to the ground. Her back protested against the angle and her arms were shaking trying to remain upright without his help. She didn’t trust him enough to fall into his hands like this. Keen to move her gaze from the piercing grey eyes, her pupils moved up and she looked at the upside-down audience cheering them on.

His hand moved up and slowly brought her upright again.

Fingers still curled around her palm, refusing to let go, and she had to let him bring her hand up to his lips to press a small kiss against the back of her hand.

“A pleasure,” he murmured.

And finally, he let her go.


	3. My way or the highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Held at knifepoint

“Come on, arms up,” the grunt ordered, tilting his fingers up impatiently.

Whumpee looked past the grunt’s shoulder where Whumper leaned casually in the doorframe, a smug grin adorning his face.

They slowly did as they were told, keeping eye contact with Whumper as the grunt patted his arms and chest, moving his way down over their body. Whumpee closed their eyes in resignation as they felt the gun pulled from their belt and the knife being uncovered from their boot.

The grunt walked backwards, keeping an eye on them, and turned to present the confiscated items to Whumper, who placed the gun into his own waistbelt and opened the knife to inspect it. He walked slowly towards Whumpee.

“I hope you weren’t planning to use these on me,” he said.

Whumpee just maintained eye contact and lowered their arms again.

“Ah, ah, keep them up. Higher now.” He gestured upwards with the knife before he turned to his grunt and told him to leave with a small nod. The grunt left the two of them alone in the small motel room.

Turning his attention back to Whumpee, he walked up to them in two large strides. He tapped their left elbow with the blade of the knife. “Higher. Lace your fingers. Back of your head.”

Without much of a choice, Whumpee folded their hands behind their head. They felt Whumper press against them and kept their eyes on the knife that was now making its way to their throat.

“Keep them there. If I see you lower them for even an inch, I’ll stain your knife and let the housekeeping get rid of your body in the morning. Can you do that for me?”

Whumpee gave a small nod.

“Good. Now let’s see if you can tell me what you found out without us messing up the room too much.”


	4. Running out of time

_No…_

The ropes bit into their wrists as they struggled in vein. 

_One more minute._

If they could just free themself and turn the timer off!

_Fuck, thirty seconds._

Sweat beads dripped down their chin.

_10 seconds._

Their struggles doubled as they counted along, anxiously following the timer until it reached zero.

The collar around their neck went off right on time. Electricity surged through them, effectively stilling any attempt to break free. Their fingers tightened around the armrests again, their muscles spasmed. It constricted their voice, a small mercy with their throat already raw from screaming. They could only draw in sharp gasps that locked in their lungs until the shock was over.

They fell forward as far as their bonds would let them, panting hard.

A ten minute break. The timer reset and started a merciless countdown again.

The timer had been placed on a table right in front of them, where it would taunt them with the seconds counting away to the next wave of pain. The big red button on top the only means to turn it off.

A game, their captor had said.

Yeah, real cool, man. Okay, fine. If their bonds wouldn’t give, let’s try something else. They carefully scraped the chair closer, bouncing and struggling towards the table. Just a bit more. They hooked a foot around the leg of the table and gently pulled. If they could just get it within reach and smack the button with their heel or _well something!_

The table scooted an inch forward, slightly askew. _Yes! Yesyesyes._ Again.

They tried to ignore the timer, which was now trying to divert their attention by flickering red. A notification of their incoming doom within five minutes. _I’m going to smack the hell out of you, timer._

Another pull and doom struck before the seconds hit zero. The table caught on one of the tiles and almost as if everything suddenly turned to slow-motion, they watched in horror as the timer tipped back over the table and bounced to the floor further away from them.

_No…_

No! They couldn’t reach that! And worse, the display crashed to the floor and was now face-down. The seconds were still ticking away. They just couldn’t see. The only means they had to brace themself for the coming hit!

Now they could only wait.


	5. Where do you think you're going?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft continuation from Day 2

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him waiting for the elevator with her boss. Too late to turn back; she was spotted. Her boss cheerfully waved at her to come over and join them. She did _not_ need this at the end of her workday. Reluctantly she trudged over to them.

“You’ve met Nadine, Chris?”

Christopher Fabrice turned to face her. He didn’t bow this time, but he did give her a respectful nod. He was wearing a more casual suit and he had a less formal air about him. She doubted he was here for actual business. Even though her boss was still practically clinging to him, she knew they had a more friendly relation than just business partners. Which made things oh so much more difficult.

“We’ve had a wonderful time at a party the other day.” Fabrice smiled and extended a hand. She took it and memories of the party came flooding back to her as she felt his fingers tighten around her palm once again.

“She’s one of our top lawyers. I expect her to make partner soon.” Her boss beamed at her like a proud father.

“Oh, we’ll be doing business then, soon.” Fabrice sounded pleasantly surprised.

“I certainly expect so,” she mimicked his pleasant tone, though mixed with a hint of ice.

The elevator _ping_ ed and she joined them. She hadn’t expected to end the day on a sour note, but well, she could handle thirty more seconds in his presence and make her escape to the subway. Or so she thought.

“In respect to our becoming business partners, might I offer you a lift home?” Fabrice asked her.

She saw her boss vigorously nodding behind Fabrice’s shoulder while she could only scream in her head.

“I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way—“

“Nonsense,” he gruffly cut her off. “No trouble at all.”

They rode the elevator down to the car park where a luscious black limousine was waiting for them. Fabrice held up a hand to his driver and opened the door for Nadine himself. The beige leather seats creaked pleasantly when she got in. It was like entering a small room. Seats on both sides of the compartment. Even a little work table. Champagne.

As soon as she was protected by the dark tinted one-way glass and her boss could no longer see her, her smile faltered.

She saw Fabrice shake hands with her boss in goodbye and he walked around the back of the car. He took the seat diagonally opposite her, not directly in front of her. _Luckily_. She was a little surprised that he maintained a respectful distance but appreciated it all the same.

“Where to?”

No way she was going to give him her actual address. Surely he wasn’t gullible enough to think that.

“Chiswick park, please.” Maybe she’d get some shopping done and take the tube home when all gaudy limousines had vacated the area. Pick up her favourite take-out at that nice Thai place. She hadn’t been there in a while and it would be nice to wash away the horrible aftertaste this ride would leave.

He smiled and called over his shoulder to his driver. “Take the lady home, Karl.”

He reached for the bottle of champagne and held it out to her. She shook her head and watched as he carefully poured a glass for himself.

“So, Nadine.” He pronounced her name in a French accent that, combined with his husky voice, gave her a shiver. He took a sip of his champagne. “I do hope you did get to enjoy the party somewhat. Maybe you found something interesting?”

Ah, so that’s what he was worried about. Or not, really. Nadine took him in but he didn’t show any signs of concern. He just looked at her with a soft condescension, like he already knew the answer. Which was that she found nothing interesting whatsoever.

“I did go home rather satisfied,” she returned the smug attitude. While really, everyone at the party only had the most disgustingly nice things to say about Fabrice. It was like any attempts at gossiping about him were instantly shutdown by disbelief and even hostility. When she had tried to explore the mansion a bit, every door, window and passage leading to, no doubt, more interesting venues, had been blocked by security.

All in all, a big bust.

“Why, I’m glad to hear that. Word reached my ears about a woman who, as described by my security detail, seemed a little frustrated roaming about the corridors trying locked doors. I’m happy to hear you cast that irritation aside.”

 _Of course they saw_. “You’re rather on top of things, aren’t you.”

“One must keep an eye on business risks.” He shrugged. “I hope to find the experience deterred you from further snooping.” His tone of voice lowered, more business-like as he finally got to the point.

“It did not.” She smiled her sweetest smile.

“That’s a shame. I’d hate to employ different methods.”

“You can’t scare me off.”

“You don’t seem scared, no,” he mused.

“Should I be?”

“I think it’s better to let you experience that for yourself. I’m more of a... show don’t tell person.”

“Like showing me my boss is rubbing elbows with you?” She wondered who was actually rubbing elbows with whom, though. Fabrice would certainly benefit from having friends at a top lawyers office.

He smiled over his glass. “Something like that. Though that's hardly worth mentioning. I could have him cut off your investigation in a second.” He snapped his fingers. “But that would just fuel you, wouldn’t it? I would prefer you come to make the decision on your own.”

“Make your threats then.”

“Some other time perhaps. Right now I’m just driving you home.”

And he was, actually. She’d already noticed, but the car didn’t seem to be going the usual route to Chiswick. Now at the final intersection, they turned left where he should have gone right. A dull feeling settled in her stomach as they turned the corner to her neighbourhood. She didn’t need to ask where they were going.

They stopped right in front of her apartment. Her lips parted slightly in surprise and she couldn’t help a soft gasp.

“I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of driving you here. I didn’t want to drop you off somewhere unfamiliar to you. The world can be dangerous for a young woman living on her own these days.”


	6. They look so pretty when they bleed

“What about that one?” Whumper pointed north to a higher point.

“Perseus.” Not one they’d soon forget. They looked up at the night sky and rubbed their arm.

“It’s cold, hm?” Whumper misunderstood their gesture, maybe deliberately because after he said it he scooted closer and folded their legs over his. He pulled Whumpee back so they could lean against his chest and draped his arms over their shoulders.

He took Whumpee’s hand and pointed it up to another one, his index finger under theirs guiding it to another constellation.

“It’s… I, no I know this, just—“ The familiar shape, the one with the pretty name. The name that wouldn’t pop up into their thoughts. Just above _goddamn_ Perseus. Not Lacerta, which was a different zigzag. Closer to the horizon tonight. They just named that one. What was the other?!

A hand tightened around their arm, both still looking up at the sky. Whumpee instantly lost all ability for rational thought.

“It’s… that’s…” It was like they were falling, like the ground shifted. Heck, as if they were drifting off into space and got caught in the gravitational pull.

Without a word Whumper placed a hand on the back of their head. He gently guided them down so they would lie down over Whumper’s lap and pulled their shirt up. The cold night air chilled them. Yes. It was cold, indeed. Though they weren’t sure if the goose bumps forming were a direct effect of that or of the knife lingering over their back.

They felt the zigzag cross into their skin, the pain jogging their memory. Cassiopeia. It was Cassiopeia now being carved into their skin. _Traitor brain_.

The knife dragged through the skin, stopped, the angle adjusted and the line continued. Whumper paused for a moment and looked up. He considered the stars above him and looked at the line he was cutting. Just a centimetre longer. The knife extended the cut and the angle was adjusted again.

As the zigzag was completed, Whumper brought the knife back to where he first started his line. The tip of the knife dug a little deeper. Whumpee grunted as the tip spun around, carving at the skin and digging deeper than the thin lines.

“Segin.” Whumper took the knife and moved farther up, pricking into the centre where the two lines met.

“Ruchbah.”

The stars bled, leaving streaks of blood dripping down from the constellation.

“Gamma cassiopeiae.”

Whumpee was so glad they didn’t have to remember the names of all the stars as well.

“Schedar.”

And a final prick. “Caph.”

He admired his final work. “Looks pretty on you. Better than Perseus, I think.” He caught a drop of blood running down with his finger.

Whumpee remembered well when they’d forgotten about Perseus two days ago. They had been glad that Whumper had stuck to the main stars of the constellation instead of all 19. Probably because he didn’t know all the names himself. _Pompous ass_. While Perseus and Cassiopeia stood close together in the sky, Whumpee counted their lucky stars that their mistakes weren’t all engraved on the same body part.

“Forget it again and I’ll have it tattooed, got it?”

They nodded and felt their shirt patted down again.


End file.
